Collision
by coffeebeanz
Summary: AU Twilight Crossover - Sam is taken by Azazel during the fire when he is 6 months old and presumed dead. Extreme circumstances leads Sam into the lives of the Cullen family, and one Dean Winchester. Changed!Sam, Sam/Dean
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Couldn't resist writing a SPN/Twilight crossover - no flames please! This is predominantly a SPN fic, with various elements and characters from the Twilight world. All standard disclaimers apply.

"Carlisle. We have to get to Lawrence, Kansas. We have to save that boy!" Alice is sitting on the couch, head in her hands, shaking. "The vision I just had… I don't understand it, but he's going to be important. To our family… to the fate of this world."

*****

Sam runs madly through the woods behind his childhood home in a desperate attempt to get to the clearing before it's too late. _But it's already too late… Isn't it, Sammy?_ His inner voice has been taunting him ever since he's had that vision of the dark haired man killing his parents. No - the dark haired **hunter, murdering** his parents.

_No, the vision must've been wrong, off somehow! _ His parents had done nothing wrong, killed no one. Why would the hunter be hunting them? Sam pushes his legs harder, and doesn't realise he has reached his destination until he trips over a stray log and stumbles into the clearing. He watches in mute horror as the hunter recites the last line of an exorcism ritual, and his parents stream out in a cloud of black smoke, circling in the devil's trap before finally disappearing into the ground with a flash of flames.

"You BASTARD! What the fuck did you just do!" Sam runs and tackles the hunter from behind, crashing them both heavily into the grass. The hunter brings a knee up and throws Sam off and onto the ground, getting him into a headlock before he has time to think.

"Christo," growls the hunter, brown eyes flashing. He is older than Sam by at least twenty years, and _no way_ Sam is going to get his ass handed to him by an old man.

"Guess again, asshole." Sam pulls a knife from the sheath around his ankle, and stabs the hunter in the thigh. "That's for murdering my parents," Sam growls. He shoves the hunter backwards and raises his knife again.

The hunter's eyes widen with pity. "Your parents? They were possessed by demons, son. I'm sorry, but your parents have probably been dead since the first day they were possessed." He gestures a bloody hand at the two bodies still lying within the devil's trap.

"No. _They_ aren't my parents," Sam emphasises, dismissing the bodies on the ground. "You just sent my parents back to hell!" Sam takes a step forward, only to feel a heavy weight tackling him from the side. Sam's head smashes against a rock as he falls to the ground, and a myriad of images flicker in his brain before the world goes black– a knife buried in his side; a priest standing over him; the hunter's expression of horror.

*****

"…I really don't know if this was the right thing to do, Alice. He could very well wake up to hate us for taking away his life."

"Carlisle, you have got to stop this! It was the right thing to do, I know it – I saw it! And you and I were both there when we found him. His parents were dead, and he would have bled to death himself had we not saved him."

Sam slowly drifts into awareness, with what feels like his entire body on fire. He figures he must finally be in Hell, but wonders when demons started taking on the voices of angels. The two voices above his head are making the most beautiful sounds, although he can't seem to make out what they're saying. He tries to open his eyes, but finds it to be too much effort. In fact, he realises he can't seem to move at all, and starts panicking.

"Nghh.." The sound that comes out of his throat is raw, and doesn't sound like him at all.

"Carlisle! I think he's awake!"

"But that's impossible, the venom has only been in his system for two hours. He should still be completely unconscious."

Sam feels icy fingers peeling back his eyelids, and sees the blurry outline of a pale face peering at him.

"I don't believe this, he's conscious! "

Sam's back arches involuntarily as a wave of excruciating pain rips through him. He blacks out again to what sounds like a million glasses shattering around him.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here's the second chapter. Please leave a review and let me know what you think! This story is eventually going to be Sam/Dean, so if you have a problem with wincest, stop reading now. You've been warned!  
I own nothing.

Sam manages to hang onto consciousness the next time he's awake. He has a sense of urgency, of something he has to do, and knows he has to remain conscious to remember what it is. Except for the dry fire in his throat, the burning in the rest of his body has all but disappeared. He flexes the muscles in his legs, testing.

"You're awake."

Sam starts, and opens his eyes. There's none of the blurriness or disorientation he's expecting from being unconscious for god knows how long. _Whoa, that can't be normal_, he thinks as the room comes into focus with shocking clarity and he's picking out the individual threads of the tapestry on the ceiling ten feet above him.

"Hey," says the voice again. Sam turns his head, and sees a tiny, effervescent pixie perched on the corner of the bed.

The pixie's eyes widen as she takes in his appearance. "Your eyes…" she breathes, hands coming up toward him.

"I must still be dreaming," he mutters, and closes his eyes again, because he's in Hell, and he's pretty sure there are no pixies in Hell. There's a delighted laugh, and shifting on the bed as he feels two tiny hands take a hold of his left hand.

"You're not dreaming, Sam. Open your eyes!"

Tiny fingers pry open his eyes, and he eyes the pixie suspiciously. "You can drop the cheerful pixie act, you son of a bitch. I've never known a demon to take on the form of a pixie, but hey, whatever floats your boat."

"What –"

"Look, I know I'm in Hell. That fire burning in my body before was kind of a giveaway. Just get on with the torture already so I can go back to being unconscious." There's no way Sam's giving in to whatever apocalyptic plans Azazel has for him, so he figures he may as well prepare himself for an eternity of burning hellfire, or whatever.

"Hell?" The pixie looks confused for a split second. "You're not dead, Sam! If you'd stop and just take a look around you for a second, you'd realise that," she stresses, and hops off the bed to draw open the blinds at the end of the room. Sam slowly sits up as he takes in his surroundings and the scene outside of the cracked glass window. In the far off distance, he sees dense forest clustered behind a stream, and although the grey weather is not exactly welcoming, it's definitely not hell, either. He turns his attention back to the pixie, who is perched on the end of the bed again, and narrows his eyes.

"Who are you? Where am I? And how do you know my name?"

"One question at a time," laughs the pixie, holding up her hands. "My name is Alice Cullen, and this is my family's home. We're in Forks, Washington." The pixie – Alice – searches his face for a moment. "What's the last thing you remember?" she says gently.

"I –" Sam pauses, his entire body tensing as he remembers the hunter and the clearing and – oh god, his parents. "I was stabbed… I should be dead," he breathes. He lifts the tail of his shirt, searching for the wound. "What – I don't understand," he says as he traces his fingers over where the wound should be. "It's gone! How long have I been unconscious?"

"Just over twenty four hours," replies Alice. "Look, why don't you just relax? My father will be up here soon, and he can explain what's happened much better than –" Alice is cut off as Sam leaps off the bed, nostrils flaring. He wrenches open the door to the startled face of a blond man no older than himself, but that's not what has captured his sudden and full attention. He inhales again to pinpoint the mouthwatering scent, and snatches the sippee cup that the man is clutching in his hands. _Must have now_, his suddenly Neanderthal brain tells him, and he brings the cup to his lips, taking a long drink of its contents. He groans as liquid bliss slides down his throat and the fire that's been burning there is finally put out.

"God, this is just what I needed. My throat's been burning ever since I came to," he says, draining the contents. "Thanks, sorry you must think I'm a complete feral snatching your drink like that," he apologises to the man, who is staring at him with his mouth shaped into a little 'o' of shock. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and it comes away red. He frowns. "Uh, what was in it anyway? I've never had anything so good," he says, fumbling with the lid. He catches a glimpse of a thick red liquid coating the inside of the cup before Alice snatches it away from him. "Is that _blood?!_"

"Sam, maybe you should sit down." Alice pushes him lightly on the chest until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he sits down heavily. "This is my father, Doctor Carlisle Cullen," she gestures at the man, who is still staring at Sam's face like he's just discovered the cure to cancer. "Carlisle?" Alice prods.

Sam looks at the two of them incredulously. "You're kidding, right? He can't be more than a few years older than you. And what kind of freaks are you - why was there blood in the cup? Why'd you let me drink it?" He's horrified and feels like he should be disgusted, but it had tasted so _good_. "Oh god, what did you do to me? You've turned me into some kind of blood drinking freak! Is this part of Azazel's plan for me? You can tell him to go to hell," he snarls.

The man blinks, finally, and clears his throat sheepishly. "I'm so sorry Sam. I know you have a lot of questions – I have no idea who this Azazel is. We found you injured in a clearing in Lawrence, and brought you back to our home. I have to ask, how are you feeling, Sam?"

"How am I feeling? I had a knife twisted in my guts, I'm feeling like I should be dead, but yet, here I am!" Sam growls, and a split second later he's up and across the room, hand wrapped around Carlisle's throat. "_What did you do to me?_"

"Sam, let him go!" Alice is at his side at his instant, pulling ineffectively at his arm.

Carlisle looks him in the eye, appearing unruffled by the fact that Sam's a second away from cutting off his air supply. "Yes, you were dying. And we saved you, the only way we could. We're vampires. I know this may be hard to believe, but it's the truth."

Vampires. Sam huffs in disbelief, and relaxes his arm. Just when he thought he'd topped the list of all things freaky and unnatural. "I'm sorry. I've had these… people after me my whole life, and I thought… never mind," he sighs, walking over to the window. "So, vampires, huh? Since I'm not dead, I'm assuming you've turned me. How come I don't have fangs?"

"You're taking this remarkably well," says Carlisle, rubbing at his neck and frowning.

"My life hasn't exactly been your average Joe's," Sam replies. "How did you find me in the clearing, anyway? I somehow get the feeling you didn't just happen to be out for a leisurely stroll in the woods three hundred miles from where you live."

Alice leans her hip on the windowsill, facing him. Her movements are exaggeratedly slow, as if he was a wild animal that she didn't want to scare away. "Sam, I had a vision of you dying in those woods," she starts, voice hesitant. "I just got the feeling that you were important, somehow. To us, To the world. Sounds crazy, right? My visions are never wrong, though."

Sam lets out a harsh laugh. "Not as crazy as you may think." _Important to the world? More like to the end of it_, he thinks. "You should have just left me out to die," he says bitterly. He doesn't want to think of the implications of his new… state of being. First infected with demon blood, and now turned vampire? He's a whole new level of freak.

"No, my visions are **never **wrong, Sam. You're important, I know it," Alice says vehemently. "Besides, no one should be maimed and left out to die like you were, its not right. I'm not going to regret saving you."

Sam combs his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. "Well, thanks for saving my life, I guess. I probably should get going. People have a nasty habit of dying around me, wouldn't want to inflict that on you," he says, stubbornly refusing to think about the fact that he has nowhere to go, now that the only thing he had that the only family he had was gone. _Revenge_, his brain whispers insidiously.

"Sam, perhaps you would consider staying with us for a while? Let us help you through the transitioning." Carlisle looks so earnest that Sam's responding protest dies before it leaves his lips. "You don't need to worry about us. There's not a lot of things in this world that would have the power to kill a vampire."

"He's right," Alice chimes in. "You're like a newborn baby now, you're going to have to relearn everything about your body." She moves into Sam's space, puts a hand on his arm and stares up at him with her wide golden eyes. "Look, you don't have to decide now. How about we go take a walk in the woods? Get you fed, show you the ropes, so to speak."

Sam realises that he really doesn't have any other options unless he wants to go on a bloodlust fuelled rampage, and nods his consent. He's not ready for the dazzling smile that Alice sends in his direction as she claps her hands together excitedly.

"Oh Sam, the world's going to be a whole new place for you! I promise you'll be feeling better about this in no time," she says. She opens the windows wide and leaps off, landing in a crouch twenty feet away from the house. She turns back to Sam and motions for him to hurry up. "What are you waiting for?"

"Holy crap." Sam stares at Alice, gaping. _Life just got a whole lot more interesting._


End file.
